You Learn
by Maureen Helton
Summary: Post Judas on a Pole.Part fluff, part angst, part mystery.
1. Perfect

**Hey guys! I don't own Bones unfortunately. If I did, things would be much different, but that's a different story, and that's where fan fiction comes in. This is basically what happened after the episode "Judas on a Pole" left off. This is my first Bones story. I hope you like it; I aim to please**.

Brennan and Booth made their way into the diner, Brennan first, with Booth's hand on the small of her back. Brennan nodded toward Zach with a smile plastered to her face. Remembering Brennan's odd request, he moved to the young Doctor and planted an open hand firmly on the young man's shoulder. Zach's eyes widened when he noticed the gesture, and this made Booth smile even more.

Not moving too quickly, Booth found his way to Brennan once more. She was sitting on a stool alone, staring out the window and seeming to be looking at something far beyond the glass. Outside the sky was fading into shades of pink and orange. The colors reflected on Brennan's angular profile, making it look as if she were glowing. He sat down beside her and placed a hand on her knee while looking into her eyes.

"How are you holding up, Bones?" he asked gently. She looked up and gave him a weak smile.

"Me? I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be? I mean, my father came back into my life briefly and murdered one, possibly two, men before leaving and taking my brother with him. But he did save my life, but it was still at the expense of other lives, and I don't know how I should feel about that."

"Bones, he's your father. He loves you, even if his ways of showing it are a little different than we're used to."

"_Different?_" she scoffed. "He kills people to get a message across, and you call that _different_? My father is a thief and a murderer, and I don't even know what else. And Russ. How could Russ do that? Just run off with him? What about those girls who I'm supposed to be an aunt to? I thought he cared."

"He does care. I told him that he shouldn't turn to crime for money, but obviously an FBI agent's advice on crime just isn't good enough."

"Or my advice. I told him not to. I even offered to help him financially for a while if he wanted. He wanted to make his own money. I thought he meant he was going to get a good job, but-"

"He knows he can't get a good job since he's a convicted felon," Booth interrupted.

"Still," she continued, "I don't understand what kind of family I was born into. The Keenans. The Brennans. Whoever they hell we really were when we were a family. And I have the feeling Russ is going to be leaving those girls just like Mom and Dad left me all those years ago. And though I've never met them, I don't want them to go through that."

"But how are _you_ dealing with all of this?" he asked. He gave her knee squeeze.

"I'm fine. I'm dealing with it. Thank you for being there earlier. I'm sorry about-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he interrupted again. "You were upset, and I was there. I was glad to be there for you. I really do care about you. I don't want you to think you have to handle all of this on your own."

"I- thank you. That means a lot to me."

To Seely Booth she looked vulnerable at that moment, though she was trying to project a strong image. He could see in her eyes that she needed some physical reinforcement. He reached over and pulled her into a tight hug. Nothing had ever felt so right to him. He had held many women before her and yet she was the only one that seemed made for his arms.

She felt emotionally weak. The past week had been hell for her, her squints, and her partner. She was slightly surprised when he pulled her into a warm hug, but her initially shock quickly left as he held her close. Every other time they had hugged, she pulled away too quickly. This time she let herself be comforted by the man she knew could comfort her. She leaned her head into his chest. She could hear his heart beating a strong, steady rhythm, and she smiled. For the first time in a few weeks she felt relaxed.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Booth asked the top of Brennan's head.

"Where would we go?" she questioned with a muffled voice. Neither of them was willing to let go just yet.

"It doesn't matter. Just somewhere. The night is young. The possibilities are unlimited."

"I'm really tired right now. I haven't really slept in close to two weeks," she admitted.

"How about we go to your place, pick up some things, and go to my place?"

"Why would I stay with you? I have a perfectly functional apartment."

"I thought you might want somewhere to stay that doesn't have a massive blood stain on the floor."

"Booth, you should know that blood is nothing new to me. I'm not afraid of it," she stated, slowly pulling out of his embrace.

"Well I just figured you had enough icky things to deal with at work and you wouldn't want anything gruesome in your house. Besides, I want you to sleep well tonight. If you're with me, you'll know you're protected for one night."

"I can take care of myself," she said defensively.

"I know you can," he said easily, placing his hands on her shoulders. "If you won't do it for you, will you do it for me?" he asked in a whisper.

"For you?" she questioned just as quietly.

"Yes. For me. It will help me sleep, knowing you're safe." He moved slowly, millimeter by millimeter toward her, and she to him. There would be no sudden pulling back this time. This time it was real. All those months of easy flirtation and innuendo were coming to the most joyous point: the first kiss. Across the diner, Angela smiled with approval at the couple that didn't need approval. The two said their hurried goodbyes and left the diner.

**A/N– Yeah. It's my first Bones story, so please review it! Do you think I should write another chapter? Tell me in your review! **


	2. All I Really Want

**Yeah. I decided to write another chapter because it was half-formed in my head and I wasn't sure if I should squeeze it out or not. Plus, thanks to SleepDeprived07, I realized that I left out Cam. She was in the story in my head, but when I started typing, she must have gone to the ladies' room. So, that's what the first part is about. Thank you all for your reviews, they made me want to get going with the next chapter quickly.**

- - - - - -

Cam sat on a plastic chair in the diner away from the celebration that was slowly coming to an end. She had been sitting in the same spot for nearly an hour. The rest of the party didn't interrupt her train of thought. Her eyes had been glued to Seely Booth, the man she thought she loved. After seeing the way he interacted with Brennan, or "Bones" as he called her, made her upset. She told herself that she shouldn't be surprised or even upset. She knew their relationship wasn't much more than sex. _It was more than that_ she thought. _Why else would he have held my hand during that horrid video?_ _Booth is a nice guy, that's why. _Her mind raced. She thought all of those looks he'd given her meant something. She thought that she meant something to him. Maybe not. What about Brennan? _She knew about us._ Why else would she have given Booth those looks before finding a convenient excuse to leave them alone?

But she'd seen the way Booth regarded Brennan. He gave Brennan far more sideways glances and trademark smiles than he'd been giving her lately. Not lately. Always. She'd tried to ignore it, too. She tried to make it like old times, like before she came to Washington. It had seemed like love then, but that was years ago. Still, she wasn't ready to give Seely up just yet. She reached into her bag and extracted her small cell phone and dialed the number of the man she couldn't lose.

- - - - - -

"I'll just be a minute," Bones said as she unlocked the door to her apartment. "And you really didn't need to follow me up here. I'm a big girl, you know."

"Bones, would you just, for once, let me do something without protesting your independence?" Booth asked.

"No," she replied honestly. "Really. I'll just be a minute, but since you've followed me this far I suppose you think you're coming in. Let's go."

"Right," was all he had to say as he followed her in silence. Her apartment was dark, but she moved around without flicking on the lights. Booth was not completely familiar with her apartment, though he had been there a few times before. He could make out the empty beer bottles on her coffee table. Evidence of Russ's recent stay. He swiftly strode across the apartment and began picking up the bottles and taking them to the recycle bin. On the first trip he noticed that a rug had been placed over the recent blood stain. Bones had been right, No one could survive after losing that much blood. Booth had known that too, but continued to assure her. But it hadn't been Russ at all.

"Are we leaving?" Bones called as she met him in her kitchen. On her shoulder was a small bag containing her overnight needs.

"You sure you can fit everything in there?" He remembered the time Rebecca had stayed over all those years ago. He though she was moving in. But this was Bones. She didn't do things over the top. She only required the essentials.

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh. Nothing. I just thought it seemed a little small." She rolled her eyes at him and led them out of her apartment for the night. One minute she had been reluctant to go with him, and not she wanted nothing more than to get out of her apartment.

Fifteen minutes later they were entering his apartment, and this time he was leading. She sat her one bag next to the door and looked at him. He was reaching into his pocket, and she could make out his muffled ring tone. She wondered briefly who was calling him before resolving that it was none of her business.

"Cam? Hey. How's the party going?" She listened to that much before it hit her: he and Cam were still an "item". Or were they? She didn't tell him about hooking up with her in the first place. Maybe he didn't want to tell her about breaking up. But she saw the way Cam still looked at him. Why would he have kissed her, Bones, if he hadn't broken up with Cam? Surely Booth wasn't that kind of man. Was he? No. Brennan told herself that she had wanted that kiss and was surprised at her mental honesty. She hadn't had those thoughts before, or at least she hadn't let herself continue that line of thought before. Was she what was commonly referred to as the "other" woman? Her thoughts were interrupted by Booth's shouts.

"It's none of your goddam business, Camille! In recent years there has been no 'us' and don't think there ever will be. You should know as much as the next anthropologist that everyone needs release. As harsh as it sounds, you were a release. I thought you realized that. I'm sorry that you think I wanted you back. But we're not together, and I thought you knew that we never really were." Booth knew that Bones was about to bolt. He could feel it. He sent pleading glances in her direction. She folded her arms across her chest and nodded. Several minutes late Booth was stuffing his phone angrily back into his pocket.

"I'm sorry to have gotten between you and Cam. I wasn't thinking clearly earlier. Maybe it's best if I go home."

"Bones, don't do this. You didn't get between Cam and me. We really weren't together. It may have felt like it, and it probably looked like it, but there was nothing there. Just lots of sex." He smiled apologetically. She knew that he had to mean it. Otherwise he would not have mentioned the sex. It made him uncomfortable. She realized he was waiting for a response from her.

"I don't know what to say Booth. I'd like to believe you. My mind is telling me that I'm the other woman and I ruined everything fo you in regards to Cam. But you're telling me I didn't. That call didn't sound like it came from a casual sex partner. It sounded like a call from a jealous girlfriend." She stared at him as if the truth would be written on his forehead. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't. "I think it's kind of you to have invited me into your home for the evening, but given the circumstances, I don't think it's appropriate for me to stay." She turned toward the door before he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stop.

"No. Don't go home tonight. Stay here. It's not wrong. Cam was nothing to me, but apparently I was something to her. I didn't mean to hurt her like that. I thought she'd understand. Seeing us together upset her because she thought we were an item. I should've been clearer from the beginning. I don't understand women." He sighed. It was the truth.

"Booth. I just don't know. I-"

"It's getting late. Stay. Please?"

"It's 8:30. It's not late."

"It's dark."

"I got over my fear of the dark years ago, Booth."

"I drove." He had a point there.

"I can call a taxi."

"Bones, don't be so argumentative all the time. Just stay here tonight." He didn't dare mention again that they both would feel better in each other's company. He didn't want to admit that she was his only fear and his only comfort at the same time.

"Fine. Only because I don't feel like calling a cab and going home to a bunch of empty beer bottles." She knew he had already cleared the bottles away. She wasn't ready to tell him that the only way she felt safe was when he was around.

- - - - - - - -

Cam was driving around town in a whirlwind of emotions. Anger at Booth for choosing Brennan over her. Anger at Brennan for being the one he chose. Anger at herself for being stupid enough to believe that they were more than a late night release. Sadness over losing him a second time. Disappointment in the opposite sex.

She carelessly parked her car in the garage to her apartment complex, slammed the door, and made her way to the entrance with her heels clicking loudly on the cement. She rode the elevator in silence to her floor and opened her door silently. She pulled her curtains closed quickly before changing into her nightwear. Flopping onto her lush bed, she let herself cry. She let every tear she had ever held for Seely. She cried tears of anger, regret, and emptiness. She could never let the rest of them know that one man had gotten to her so much. She usually knew how to keep her distance. How had he gotten so close?

**A/N– I really appreciated your reviews last chapter. I read them all several times through. I also appreciate the confidence that 28 of you displayed that I would continue by adding this story to your alerts list. It really does mean a lot to me. If I ever decided to write anything else for this particular story, it will probably just be an outlet for fluff.**


	3. The Couch

**A/N– I really do read all reviews and take them into consideration. I hope you're happy with this next chapter!**

Booth loved the way she looked when she had said "fine." Her body was tense, projecting an image of doing something she didn't want to do. But her eyes, her eyes had a look that said she wanted to stay. That was good, wasn't it? Of course. Bones was staying in his apartment.

"Hey. You know, it's still early," he began. Brennan gave him an amused look. "What?" he demanded. When she only smiled in return, he tried again. "What?"

"Nothing. Just you were just telling me that it's getting late, and now you're telling me that it's early. I just noticed a bit of a contradiction. So which is it, early or late?" she teased.

"Early. Do you want to watch a movie? I have a few here, but you've probably seen," he stopped himself briefly, "none of them," he concluded.

"Sure," she laughed. "I really did have a TV at one point. I'm not completely pop-culturally challenged." In response, Booth began humming "Hot Blooded" with a smug smile.

Booth sat down on his couch with the remote in hand. Brennan sta down on the opposite end of the couch, closest to the arm rest. Booth flicked on the TV and absently began to shuffle through his DVD collection.

"This is still on?" Brennan asked, breaking his train of thought. She had one finger pointed to the screen that was now showing an episode of the Simpsons. "I used to watch that all the time with Shane."

"Shane?" he asked with interest.

"An ex boyfriend. Let's just watch this instead. Please?"

"Fine." The girl really didn't know much about pop culture, but occasionally she would surprise him by recognizing a common television symbol.

Two hours later the mini-marathon ended and Brennan stood and stretched. Booth stifled a yawn.

"I'm going to grab a shower before bed. Can you leave me a blanket?" Brennan asked as she made her way to the tiny bag still resting by the door.

"Why don't you just take my bed?"

"No, no. I'm not going to come into your house _and_ take your bed. Thanks, though." she grabbed her bag and continued to the bathroom where she took a steaming hot shower.

She scrubbed her skin until it was red. She wasn't just trying to rid herself of the day's grime, but also of the feeling she got when Russ drove away with her father, and the feeling she had when she knew that her father had killed the man on the pole. Fearing her skin would bleed if she scrubbed it anymore, Brennan stepped out of the shower. After quickly toweling off and dressing for the night, she made her way back to the living room. The sofa had been converted to a bed. In the bed was Booth.

"Booth, what are you doing?" she demanded upon reaching the bed.

"I told you, take my bed."

"I told you I wasn't going to do that. Just go to bed, Booth."

"I'm set for the night."

"Booth. I know how to break your arm six different ways just with my right hand. Go to your own bed." Knowing that the fight was going nowhere, Booth reluctantly got out of the sofa bed and headed to his own room.

"I was just warming it up for you. Sleep well."

Brennan smiled at his retreating form. She knew he was trying to be nice to her, but part of her wished he wouldn't. She slid into the now vacant bed. It _was_ warm. It smelled like his aftershave, and that was comforting. She observed the room around her. Everything reminded her of him. Even in the worst of times, Booth made the world right. With a heavy sigh, she drifted into a deep slumber.

_Blood. _That was the first thought that occurred to her. Lots and lots of blood. She couldn't move. There was something wet and bloody around her body and neck. She screamed, but nobody came. Then there was a presence. A man in the shadows, coming forward. More blood. His hands were covered in blood. She screamed again. Had she ever stopped screaming? As the man moved closer, the shadows that covered his face slowly dissipated. Her father was standing before her with his hands covered in blood. She couldn't move. She was being held there against her will. But her father loved her.

"Temperance. Temperance." Where was the voice coming from?

"Temperance." It was getting louder. Why was she being shaken?

"Bones." Why would her father call her Bones?

"Temperance!" She gasped as Booth came into view. She was covered in sweat, not in blood. Her wet hair was wrapped tightly around her neck. Booth's concerned face pulled her head out of the terrible dream.

"Can't move," she said with a tired and weak voice. Without hesitation, Booth untangled her from the offending blankets and her own hair.

"Bones, what was going on? You were thrashing around and screaming. God, your screaming was horrible. Are you okay?"

"Now I am." She was barely aware of how close Booth was. One of his hands was holding the blanket away from her body, the other was wrapped protectively around her.

"I was just dreaming," she said. It was reassuring to hear it our loud.

"Of course you were just dreaming," Booth said softly against her damp hair.

"It was so...scary." Scary seemed so inadequate for the terror she had felt. "There was so much blood. Everywhere. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. And my father was there with blood covering his hands. I didn't know what to do until you woke me up. Thank you." Though her words were meant for Booth, she spoke them directly to a pillow.

"It's over now. It's okay." He rubbed small but soothing circled on her back. Gradually, she leaned closer to him. Her head made its way to his shoulder. He kept rubbing circled into her skin and whispering into her hair. She wasn't aware that she was relaxing and falling back into her sleep. He was aware that she was relaxing, and trusting him. Trust was something that Temperance didn't give out easily, yet she was giving it to him.

**A/N– I've been out of town for holidays and such. I'm sorry it's been so long. I plan on another chapter, because I morally cannot leave Cam crying for eternity. And I do not loathe her. Please review. I don't get payed to write this stuff! **


	4. Wake up

**A/N– What do _I_ think would have happened if this fan fiction didn't? We are talking post Judas on a Pole, right? I honestly think he just would have been spending a night alone. Booth seems like a family man to me, and I can't see him putting anything before his family, even a time with Brennan, which he was spending by agreeing to go into the diner. With that said, on with the story!**

Temperance could barely make out the glowing green numbers of Booth's DVD player. 6:17. Damn. She usually tried to wake up by 6. Usually, she had an alarm. Usually she woke up in her own bed, alone. Something told her that this morning was not going to pass as the others usually did.

She was only vaguely aware of the sleeping form under her head. Slowly she sat up, rubbing her eyes and suppressing a yawn. She was trying not to wake Booth for the time being. He looked so calm asleep in his half-sitting, half-laying position on his couch-bed. The eyes that were normally so intense were closed to the world. All traces of thought were gone from the agent's brow. Brennan smiled to herself as she grabbed her overnight bag and headed to the bathroom.

Booth was awake the second the weight of her head left his chest. For reasons he couldn't place, he remained still as she struggled to gain consciousness. He had been aware of her lingering a moment and studying his form before leaving the room. He grunted as he got up from the bed. His back ached. The position in which he had been sleeping was far from comfortable, but the feeling of holding Temperance as she relaxed and drifted into sleep made the pain bearable.

"Good. You're up." Brennan stated from the entrance to the living room.

"Yeah. I'm up," he said, standing quickly. He felt extremely aware of the fact that she looked near ready to leave, and he was still in his night wear.

"Good," she continued, "I, uh, just realized that you drove last night and I need a ride to work."

"Right, I shower quickly. You can help yourself to breakfast."

"Okay. I might do that." Might. Booth suddenly remembered his hand wrapped around her torso as she slept. She had felt thin to him. Thin to the point that he could feel her individual ribs. He hoped she would eat breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later Booth found his partner sitting on the newly folded couch watching the news.

"Ready?" he interrupted the girl analyzing weather patterns on screen.

"Yeah, I'm ready," she responded, grabbing her bag. "It's been a long time since I could actually _watch_ the news. I guess I was just missing the graphic interruption to my news. But let's go. I don't want to be late."

"Bones, it's not quite 7 o'clock yet. You work too much anyway. We just finished this case. What do you have to do right now?" He grabbed his keys to his FBI- issued SUV. And they continued their conversation on the way.

"What do I have to do right now?" she repeated his question. "Well, every time we finish a case, I'm handed a mountain of paperwork. After that, there's the job I was actually hired to do." For the first time that morning, Booth realized how hoarse and harsh her voice sounded. He dismissed it, remembering how she had screamed the previous night.

When the pair reached the Jeffersonian, Brennan dropped her bag in her car before heading into the lab, closely followed by Booth. She loved having him around, but part of her wished that they could have parted ways in the parking garage.

"Good morning, Camille," Booth greeted from behind Brennan. She had been so ;ost in thought that she hadn't noticed her superior walking down the corridor.

"Good morning Seeley, Doctor Brennan." She nodded her head to each respectively. Her gaze stayed on the pair for a moment. And then Camille was gone.

Cam continued walking until she was inside her office. She sighed heavily as she opened the folder she had been carrying. Her thoughts quickly began to fade rom John Doe 4821964, and landed on Seeley Booth. She mentally scolded herself. The only way to pull through this would be to detatch completely. She told herself that it was stupid to dwell on something that she couldn't change. With another sigh, she returned her attention to the John Doe file.

- - - -

The moment Booth left Brennan's office, Angela appeared in the large door frame.

"Honey, do tell!" she commanded her friend.

Looking up from her papers, the anthropologist met her friend's gaze.

"What, exactly, and I supposed to be telling you?"

"Don't give me that! I saw you and Booth kiss at the diner. You two left together last night and came in together this morning. Give me the juicy detail in the middle. Come on!"

"I'm sorry, Angela. There's really not much to tell you."

"Sweetie, what's wrong with your voice?

"My voice? Oh. I did a bit of screaming last night. Booth said my screams were terrible. It's nothing really."

"Ooh. Well, were you in his bed when you were screaming?" Angela smiled mischievously.

"No. I was on the sofa-bed. And fully asleep. I had one hell of a bad dream. It doesn't matter what you're thinking right now; Booth and I did not have sex," she concluded honestly.

"That's too bad. I thought maybe you would have."

"Well, we didn't. Can I get back to these papers? I need to finish these before I can start on the skeletal remains that are on their way up from Limbo."

Sure, sweetie. Better luck next time." The artist left with a meaning ful smile.

After hours of filling out papers, dating, and signing, Brennan was standing over a skeleton. In her freshly gloved hands she held what little paperwork existed on John Doe 9862103. Leaning closer to the skeleton, she found the file's first inaccuracy. John Does 9862103 was actually a Jane Doe. As she moved to correct that on paper, she felt suddenly shaky all over. She wrote "female" in large letters on the top of the file. The writing looked very different from her own. Her mental processes seemed to be slowing down. She removed her gloves and left the platform. Inside her office she collapsed onto the small couch.

Booth knocked lightly on the door frame before entering. Moments earlier he had seen her enter the office.

"Bones, we have a case." He walked over to the couch where she was sitting. She was slouched over.

"Great. Just give me a minute. I need to sit for a little bit."

"Are you okay?" Her skin was pale. He reached for her hand and found it to be cold and clammy.

"I'm fine. I just need a minute."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you sitting down?"

"It feels better than standing right now."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. I just felt all shaky all of a sudden. I don't know why." Booth felt her tiny wrist twisting in his hand.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday when you and I went to lunch."

"You and I went to lunch two days ago, and you didn't eat much. Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Mmhmm."

Booth quickly found his way to the lab's small break room and bought a soda from the machine. Walking as quickly as he could without shaking the soda, he made his way back to Brennan.

"Here," he said, thrusting the bottle into his partner's hands. "I have a hunch. Drink up." She hesitated and followed his instructions. They sat together in silence for a few minutes.

"I feel better. You're good. So tell me about this case we have." She stood and went for her coast as he stared at her for a moment.

"Take that soda with you I want you to finish it. The case is an interesting one. A girl was playing in the woods and she found a bag that smelled bad. It peaked her curiosity and she looked inside. She found a bag of heavily decomposed body parts. She screamed and told her aunt. The aunt called us."

Twenty minutes later the black SUV came to a stop outside of a heavily wooded area. Brennan and Booth climbed out and met the officer on the scene. Several of the surrounding trees held yellow crime scene tape. Snapping on some latex gloves, Brennan stepped forward. She indicated the bag and received and uncomfortable nod from the officer.

Booth hadn't been exaggerating when he had said the bones were badly decomposed. In was mostly bone with very few pieces of flesh still stuck to it. After examining the bag, she surveyed the surrounding area. Trees lined the entire area. Leaves from many falls carpeted the earth, and the whole scene was covered in a comfortable shade. Far in the distance there was a small clearing which held a small house. Fifty feet from where she sat, a small red loop was poking through the leaves. Silently she stood and moved to the spot where the loop was. Booth followed with questions blazing in his eyes.

Cautiously, Brennan peeled layers of leaf and dirt from around the mysterious loop. Eventually a garbage bag came into view. Glancing briefly at her partner, she opened the bag. The bag contained bones similar to the ones in the other bag.

"Booth," she broke the silence. "I think we have a real problem here."

"What is it?" he asked, nearly fearing the answer. In response, she pulled a bone from the bag.

"Do you know what this is?"

"It's a bone."

"Yes. It's a femur. Leg bone." She patted her thigh. "The other bag contained two femora."

"And that's a problem," he concluded.

"I'd say it's a problem."

The two sat in Booth's SUV still at the scene. Night was beginning to fall around them. The cadaver dog wouldn't be available until the morning, and a search team would be useless in the dark. They were waiting for the scene to be secured before leaving. Booth was trying to convince Brennan to let him cook her dinner.

"That's really not necessary. I can cook for myself. I'm not even hungry," she protested.

"Please. You haven't eaten in two and a half days. You early collapsed today. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't been there to save the day."

"Save the day? Do you fancy yourself some kind of hero? I could have gotten myself a soda."

"Did you even know what was wrong?"

"Hypoglycemia. I was going to get something. I just needed to sit down for a moment."

"Right. Just let me cook you dinner."

"I still have to secure the bones in the lab. I don't think anyone else will do it."

"Call Zach. He'll be able to do it."

"I know. But I got them out, so I should put them away. Really."

"If I wait for you will you let me cook?"

"No. I'm not hungry. I can provide for myself, you know."

"I know. You're very independent."

"Exactly. I'm going to get my own dinner and go to sleep in my own bed. Maybe I'll take a shower in my own bathroom. Who knows. It could end up being a wildly exciting night alone. I'll enjoy it. You might consider having some time to yourself."

"Fine. I'll drop you at the lab."

"Thank you."

They rode in silence back to the Jeffersonian, where Booth dropped Brennan at the door. Then he drove away, his mind filled with thoughts of her.

Brennan scooted up to the medico-legal lab to secure the remains she had been working on earlier. After they were secure, she grabbed her jacket and keys and headed home. Her Jeep wasn't as fun to drive as the car she received from her publisher was. Her silver baby was still deep in the bowels of the Jeffersonian. The technicians were examining ever inch of the car for clues on the gravedigger. She parked in the garage of her apartment complex and hurried to her apartment. Once inside, she shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. She had just gotten herself a drink when her doorbell rang. She looked through the peep hole before opening the door.

"What the hell?" She asked her partner.

"You said I couldn't cook you dinner, so I picked some up." He held out a box bearing the Wong Foo's logo.

"Booth."

"What? Have you already eaten?"

"Well, no. I just got home."

"Then there's no harm done, is there?"

"I guess not." She smiled and admitted him into her apartment. He could be so frustrating sometimes, but maybe that's what made her love him.

**A/N– Haha? You like? Did you know that if you live in the US and have a good internet connection, you can watch the three latest episodes of Bones on Myspace? Well, you can.**

**I worked really hard on this chapter. I hope you like it. I hope you drop me a review. That would be sweet. Please give me a review. Please. I read each and every one of them and try to incorporate some suggestions into the story. Oh, is anyone else not receiving their mail? I didn't get any from last chapter. You can still review, though!**


	5. Sympathetic Character

**A/N: So far there are 51 alerts out on this story. I take that to mean you want me to keep writing this. That means I'm going to need an actual plot. I don't know how well I'll be able to develop this plot, but I'm going to try.**

At 5:30 Temperance was woken by the buzzing of her alarm clock. Uncharacteristically, she slammed her hand against the snooze bar that was stiff from disuse. She still needed a few moments before she could be fully awake. What seemed like seconds later, the buzzing commenced once more. She quickly turned off the alarm and threw the covers off of her still asleep body. If she expected herself to wake up at 5:30, she should have gone to sleep earlier. But the previous night had been as unusual as its morning had been. And just as full of Booth. After they ate (and he assured that she ate) he had stayed. They talked for hours about anything and everything that came to mind. It shocked her how open and comfortable she felt with him. When he left (after midnight) they shared another kiss. This wasn't just a kiss, either. It wasn't lust. It was something so much more. Her body had melted into his. Every emotional barrier she had got pushed aside with a swipe of his tongue. It was intense. She felt her cheeks warm at the recollection of the recent kiss.

After showering and dressing, she made her way to the kitchen as toasted some wheat bread. When it popped from the toaster, she spread it with a generous amount of peanut butter. She had promised Booth that she would eat, so that's exactly what she was doing. She also didn't want another incident like the day before. That was embarrassing. She'd been caught up in her work, and her brother had come to town and left with her father. Where was she supposed to have time to eat? She didn't have the stomach for it, anyway. Realizing her father was the murderer made her usually difficult job even harder.

She was safely inside the lab before the sun came out of hiding, and far before any of the other squints decided to show up. That wasn't unusual. She seemed to be the only one of them that worked so hard. Rarely was there any sunlight when she entered the building or left it at night.

She hoped to get some work done on the Jane Doe that was supposed to be a World War II soldier. Her heart really wasn't in it. She set up the bones in order before retreating from the platform. She tried to think about the case they had begun the night before. How many bodies would they find? Whose lives were forever changed by the actions of another. If it wasn't enough to kill, why had they been dismembered?

She heard the scuffling of feet and the low chatter of male voices. She turned to the cause of the noise and saw Zack Addy and Jack Hodgins. Glad for the distraction, she walked in their direction.

"How are you guys this morning?" she asked cheerfully.

"We're fine, Doctor Brennan," Zack responded.

"I was just telling Zack that he should get a car now that he's a board-certified doctor. A doctorate is nice, but the car makes it sweet," Jack told her. She smiled at the pair of them. If one didn't know better, they could suppose from their behavior that the two were brothers.

"I never learned to drive," the young doctor said defensively. "And if you knew what I know about structural design, you wouldn't drive either. It makes me uneasy riding, I don't think I'd make a better driver than passenger."

"Life isn't worth living if you don't do it dangerously every now and then," Hodgins told him.

"I don't feel the need to drive. Unless I'm going home I take public transit. It's not bad, you know."

"What if you had a date? Would make her take public transit too? Or make her drive? Either way, it's a poor start to a date. Not impressive," Brennan posed the scenario.

"I don't often find myself in those types of social settings."

"Come on man. Grow a set," Hodgins said before leaving.

"Is he talking about testicles?"

"Yeah," she smiled at him before retreating to her office. She sat down at her desk and opened the computer file containing her in-progress novel. She drew a pile of not-so-sticky notes out of her purse. They were nearly blackened from all of the tiny print that covered them. She'd been transporting them to and from work for a while now, and they were losing their stick. She finally gave up and secured them to the sides of her computer with tape from her desk drawer. She had just began to type when Angela entered.

"Angela," she said while turning away from the computer. "What brings you here so early?"

"I wanted to catch you before Booth came in and took you out for the day. I was thinking about what you said yesterday. The hellish dream. I want you to tell me about it."

"Why?"

"It might help. You never know."

"Okay. There's really not much to tell. Not much that I remember, either. There was a lot of blood. Everywhere. My dad was there. His hands were covered in blood. I couldn't move. I was screaming. There was a lot of blood, Ange. It was everywhere. I don't know where it was coming from. It was just there." She looked up to she her friend turning the worn pages of a book dealing with dream interpretations. "Look, thinking that dreams can reveal things deep in a person's mind is ridiculous. There's no point." Ignoring her little protest, her friend looked up from the book.

"Blood. It says that violent, bloody dreams mean the dreamer is experiencing an emotional upheaval. Blood on one's hands indicated guilt. Paralysis...it means the dreamer has a feeling of helplessness in his or her current situation. Does that sound accurate to you?"

"Of course it will. By reading those, a person is supposed to think 'yeah, that sounds like me' and figure that their dream had something to do with their life. Sometimes a dream is just a dream."

"Come on, sweety. This has got to be your life! It was your dream!"

"I know it was my dream. It might seem relevant to my current situation. I have control over my life. There's not reason to be talking about this." At that moment Booth appeared at the door.

"Bones, come on, let's go. Gotta get out to the site." She rose, got her jacket and bag, waved to Angela, and left.

"What were you two talking about before I interrupted?" He asked as they drove down the same road they had taken the previous day.

"Nothing."

"You seemed kind of upset. Are you sure it was nothing?"

"It was nothing." They continued along the road for ten minutes without speaking.

"Why so quiet?" Booth asked half-jokingly.

"I hadn't noticed. Maybe I'm making up for how vocal I was last night. I'm a bit tired."

"Maybe I shouldn't have stayed last night."

"No. I enjoyed your company. I really did."

"Good. Did you eat this morning?" He tried to make the question sound casual, but he couldn't hide the concern in his voice.

"Yes I did. I had orange juice and peanut butter toast. I even packed myself a lunch, but I left it in my office. Do I pass?"

"Yes, you pass. I just wanted to make sure you were eating."

"Booth. I eat just fine!"

"Funny, seeing as you didn't eat for two days. That kind of threw me off."

"I don't have an eating disorder. I was working on a case that was emotionally tough on me. I wanted to get to the bottom of it and hopefully catch my father for good. I thought you would understand that."

"Of course I do. I'm sorry. I know you get absorbed in your work. I worry."

"I've noticed. Look, the dogs are here." The SUV had barely come to a stop when she was out.

"Doctor Brennan. How's it going? Shame to be called out here for such circumstances, but nice to see you again. I heard you put out a request for me." The dog handler was a friendly lady.

"Yeah I did. I know that you and Tutti are the best team around. I want every piece of these people to be found today."

"Tutti recently retired, so I brought her new assistant, Soli. Tutti came along. She's not completely out of work yet. Why don't you take Tutti, and I take Soli?"

"I'd be glad to take Tutti. Come on, Tutti," she called to the dog. She was handed the leash and the two were off. She hadn't taken twenty steps from their starting point when Tutti abruptly stopped, sniffed the ground, and lay down. Brennan took a can of paint from her bag and sprayed a circle around Tutti's body. Then she signaled to one of the men standing idly with a shovel. "Remember to shovel slowly, one layer at a time," she instructed the man.

"Yes, Doctor Brennan," was the response she received.

Hours later the team had uncovered seven bags containing heavily decomposed body parts. When asked if she wanted to stop looking, Brennan replied with a solid no. If the work was done by the same person, they most likely would have committed identical crimes. That meant there had to be another bag. She continued working for twenty more minutes when Soli's handler announced that another bag had been found. Wiping her brow, she turned to join the team when she noticed Tutti laying solidly on the ground. Again she circled the dog with paint and called over another man holding a shovel. Then she looked for another bag. It took an hour to find the next bag. They searched well outside the intended boundaries and inside them for several more hours before deciding they had found all that could be found.

"Great. If I could these sent to the lab I can start working on an identification. The sooner the better if this is a serial murderer," Brennan announced to the team. She stripped off the latex gloves she had been wearing for hours and went to Booth's side.

"Tough day," he commented.

"And it's about to get tougher. This was the easy work. I'll start working on an identification tonight. I'll pull any particulates from the skulls and have them ready for Angela in the morning. You should have something to do tomorrow, I'd say mid-morning," the doctor said.

"You know, you don't have to start tonight. It's getting dark now. You wake up at an ungodly hour. Maybe you should consider getting some rest tonight, huh?"

"Booth, I understand your concern, and I appreciate it. I'll be fine. This is what I thrive on."

"Dead bodies?"

"No. This thing we do together. You know? My team and I tell you who they are and how they died. You tell us who killed them and why. I help you in the field. I like it. I'm just doing my part."

"If you want to be valuable in the field, then you need to get some rest."

"No I don't. Just take me back to the lab, okay?"

"Fine. Mind if I stay?"

"I won't be doing anything interesting. Well, I won't be doing anything you find interesting."

"Sure you will," he said with a smile. "I've always wanted to know how you do what you do. Maybe you could show me."

"Fine. I won't blame you if you decide to leave, though."

They sat in her office thirty minutes later. Brennan had given her John/Jane Doe file to Zack for completion. They were waiting for the delivery of the bagged body parts. Booth sighed and drummed his fingers on the surface of her desk.

"Do you want to tell me what you and Angela were talking about this morning?" he pressed.

"Not really. Fine. It was just stupid stuff. It really had no meaning." She looked at his face and the phone rang. Their eyes locked as she picked up the receiver.

"Brennan," she asked briskly. "Amy? I...no. I don't know. Yes, he was here for a few days. He's gone now. I don't know. It's complicated." She mouthed "Russ' girlfriend" to Booth as her cell rang. She rolled her eyes and tossed it to Booth. "Amy. I don't think this is a good time to talk about this. Yes, I'm really sorry that Russ disappeared on you. He's done to me for the second time in my life. I know how it feels. I'm sorry for you and your girls. I really am. Call me back tomorrow morning. About 7:30? 8? Okay. I'll talk to you then." Booth was already done on her cell. She could tell from the look on his face that it wasn't going to be good news.

"That was Russ. He wanted to tell you to forget about him and your father. They've found a safe spot for now. He doesn't want you to get involved. They love you very much. Don't try to find them." Booth informed her of this in a monotone voice, repeating everything he heard from her phone. "I'm going to try to track this number, but something tells me it will be a dead end. I'm sorry."

"What for? I knew it was going to happen. I was talking to Amy. Russ' girlfriend. She wanted to know where Russ was and why he left. I told her that I didn't know. She's going to call back tomorrow at 8. I don't know what to tell her. This is your job; you're the one with 'people skills' and I'm not."

"Weird coincidence, or are they in on it together?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll tell her minimal details in case she is hiding something. I think it's weird that she called at the same time as Russ. Unless Russ called her first. Then I don't know what's going on. I don't know how she can explain this to her little girls. They're so young. Her daughter Hailey has lung trouble. Why can't my family just be normal for once?" By the end of her speech, Brennan's voice was full of emotion.

"I don't know, Bones. I don't know. I wish I knew. It would solve a lot of things." They were interrupted by a knock on the door frame.

"I need you to sign for the remains Doctor Brennan," said a large man with a mustache resembling a large caterpillar. She signed and the man left.

"I really don't feel like starting these tonight. Do you mind if I leave them for tomorrow?"

"It's not problem, I told you," he said reassuringly.

"I know. I just needed to reconfirm. I'm just going to secure them and leave. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No. Let me come home with you again. I won't keep you up late. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Booth. I can really take care of myself. Once again, I appreciate your concern, but there really is no need for it."

"Please? It's really for me more than it for you. This is really hard to say. You terrify me. When you leave and you're so full of emotion, when you've just had your heart ripped open, it scares me. I don't know what you're going to do. When I see that you're safe, I feel safe too. So letting me see you home, that's my way of making us both feel secure. Will you let me do it?" She nodded. How could she tell him that she reciprocated the feelings?

"I'd love it if you'd see me home." It was as close as she could come at the moment. She knew that she trusted him more than anyone she had trusted since her parents left. It was too good to be true. Every time someone got too close in her world, they were suddenly ripped away. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to let herself believe that he wouldn't leave.

"Zack," she called out of her office. She waited a moment until she saw his form coming toward her. "Could you do me a huge favor? Two sets of remains have just been brought in. They're in ten garbage bags. I need you to secure them. I'm too tired to do it, but it really needs to be done. We'll start on them in the morning. I think I'm going to need your help."

"Yes, I'll do that Dr. Brennan," he replied.

"Thank you so much. I'll see you in the morning." After he left she turned back to Booth. "I'll meet you at my place."

"I can drive you. We're going to the same place."

"I know, but I need to get to work in the morning and I don't want to bother you." He was torn between telling her t hat it was no problem and sleeping in the morning.

"It's fine. When are you leaving in the morning?"

"6:30." He shuddered.

"It's fine. I'll come pick you up."

"Are you sure?"

"There's nothing I'd rather do."

"Okay. Let's get out of here." She hope he realized what she was going through. She hated being dependant on him, or on anyone for that matter. She was her own person and had been for fifteen years. Maybe there was some way to adjust. Without thinking she knew what was coming next.

"So, what's for dinner?" he asked, gripping the steering wheel.

"I was thinking spaghetti. Pasta from a box, sauce from a jar. Simple, yet filling. What do you think?"

"Me? I think that's perfect."

"Good. That's what I was going to have last night before my plans were changed for me." She laughed lightly.

Back in her apartment the two stood in the kitchen cooking spaghetti. Brennan was jabbing the contents of the boiling pot with a wooden spoon. Booth laughed at her.

"Where's your olive oil?" he asked.

"My olive oil? Why?"

"It's what keeps the spaghetti from sticking to itself."

"Funny. I thought jabbing it made it not stick."

"See Bones? That's why you need me around. To tell you things like that." She smirked in his direction. Minutes later she scooped a steaming hot noodle from the pot and flung it at the wall. When it fell off immediately, she grimaced.

"Not done yet," she commented to herself.

"What the hell was that, Bones?" Booth asked with bewilderment.

"Oh. I thought you were the master spaghetti chef. I was sadly mistaken. If you throw it at the wall and it sticks, then it's done. Simple."

"Oh, so simple," he mocked. She rolled her eyes and threw another piece of spaghetti to the wall. When it stuck she smiled and drained the water. She added the sauce from the jar and moved the pot to her tiny dining table.

After the spaghetti dinner and its dished were cleared and clean, the pain sat on her lush couch.

"You know," Booth said, "this would be a whole lot more comfortable if you had a TV on that stand."

"I know." She had recently acquired a taste fo the mindless distraction a television could bring. "I'm thinking about getting another one. Apparently I'm still paying for the service. I haven't seen the bills since I hired a personal accountant. I asked to see them the other day. I'm still paying for good television. I should really get one. But for now, we've only got each other for entertainment," she smiled.

"I think we could find a few ways to entertain ourselves," he said innocently. She sighed. "Come here." She obediently slid closer to him. He angled her body away from his and began rubbing her shoulders. At first she tensed at the touch, but quickly relaxed. His fingers felt good on her flesh. He found all of her knots. A moan escaped her lips. She turned to face him and was met by the warmth of his mouth. All she could do was return the movement of the tongue. Slowly they pulled apart.

"I should get going. I don't want to keep you up again," he said, getting to his feet.

"No," she said, standing close to him. "Stay here with me tonight. It will be okay. Let's go to bed now," she said, leading the way to her dimly lit bedroom. All awkwardness gone, he followed her.

**A/N: My chapters keep getting longer. Look closely at this chapter and you might see a plot. Maybe. It's coming. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Is there anything you'd like to see? Leave me a review telling me. I love reviews. They're almost as good as a paycheck, but not quite. Thank you to everyone who is reviewing. They keep me going. **


	6. Can't Not

**A/N: To those who care, the chapter titles have absolutely no relevance to the chapters. They're just random songs or lyrics from songs I'm listening to while I write. Read on!**

When Temperance woke the next morning she smiled at the sight of the man laying next to her. She lifted her head from the pillow to steal a glance at the clock on her night stand. She suddenly realized that she hadn't set the alarm the night before and began to worry. 5:54. Yes. She was silently thankful for her inner clock. She sat up in bed and pulled her T shirt over her head and down to the waistband of her pants. As she showered, she remembered the previous night.

He had followed her into her bedroom without hesitation. She had come out of the bathroom to find him in her bed wearing only his boxers. She remembered briefly feeling her inner organs flutter before rationalizing with herself: organs can't flutter. But they had. He had offered her a continuation of the massage her had been giving her earlier. What reason did she have to decline? She felt the same familiar fluttering of internal organs when he suggested that she take her shirt off. She followed his suggestion without a second thought. She adjusted herself against her pillows and waited for the comfort of his touch. He had grabbed the bottle of lotion from her bedside table and began warming it between his hands. His hands glided over her skin and she relaxed considerably. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was Booth planting a kiss on her neck.

Her cheeks became hot with thoughts of the previous night. There was absolutely no denying the feelings they had for each other. At times when she was with him it took all of her restraint to not rip off their clothes and just have wild sex. As great as their sex would undoubtedly be, teasing him had its benefits too. She loved the look in his eyes when they came so close so many times. She reveled in his touch. How much longer could this really go on?

She had finished showering, dressed, and was now standing in her kitchen making toast. She was about to go get Booth when he walked into the kitchen behind her.

"Hey," she said as a way of morning greeting. "Do you want some toast? I have peanut butter and jelly and butter, and...what do you put on your toast?"

"Bones, it's okay. I don't want any toast."

"Are you sure? You're then one always telling me to eat. Now it's my turn. Eat."

"Nah. I'm just going to take you to work and go back to my place to eat and change. If that's okay with you."

"Yeah. That's great. I'm just going to eat my toast and brush my teeth. Then we can go. I've found that toothpaste is okay after orange juice, but not the other way around." He smiled at her for the tenth time that morning.

When Brennan reached the lab, she was greeted by Angela.

"Sweetie, where have you been?" Angela questioned her friend. "I came in this morning and saw your car, but I couldn't find you. Where were you?"

"Angela, why were you here before _me_? You're always the one telling me to get a life."

"Why I was here has nothing to do with this conversation."

"I beg to differ. As you always arrive at work at least an hour after I do, it's natural to question the reasoning of your early arrival," she said with a hint of humor. Sensing that they wouldn't move past this, Angela gave in.

"I was going to work on my painting last night at my apartment when I realized that I left my best brushes here. I didn't want to work without them, so I came in early. I figured I'd put in my eight hours and leave early today. Your turn. Where were you this morning?"

"At my apartment like I am every morning. Booth offered to give me a ride last night and this morning. I have to get started on those skulls we uncovered last night. I was so tired I asked Zack to secure the remains. I need to get working on them so you can put faces to them and possibly an ID."

"Whoa. Wait up, sweetie. You left remains for someone else to take care of so you could leave with Booth? What aren't you telling me?"

"Angela, there's really nothing to tell you. I promise to tell you if I ever have sex with Booth. Okay? Now can I please get to work? I want to me of some use today." Angela knew that she wouldn't be able to get her friend to tell her anything else. She left one last remark with the doctor.

"I'll just agree now, but we both know you're not going to tell me when you two finally hook up."

On the platform Brennan met Zack.

"Zack, could you tell me what you did with the remains I asked you to secure last night?"

"When I got here this morning I decided to start work on them, as you implied a request for my assistance in your office last night. I've cleaned the skulls, and I was about to put the tissue markers on. Hodgins is identifying what was embedded in the skulls. I've left the rest of the bones in their respective bags, indicating which skull came from which bag. The skull structures are remarkably similar."

"Good work, Zack. Can I see the skulls?"

"Sure thing, Doctor Brennan," he replied, leading the way to the skulls. They reached three identical tables all in a row. Two were occupied with one skull a piece, and the third held the bags. She picked up the skull nearest her and examined its features carefully. She then repeated the process with the next skull, then turned to face Zack.

"These skulls are similar. From what I see right now, they seem identical. I'll do the tissue markings and send them in to Angela. Can you start trying to sort out body parts?" The young man nodded and headed over to the bags.

Later, Brennan headed to Angela's office. She headed into the room to find the artist squinting at a screen, and then an image was projected in the holograph. Again Angela squinted at her computer screen. The holograph blinked and produced the same image. Then the artist noticed her friend's presence on the threshold.

"I think they're identical twins," Angela said quietly. "I may have entered something incorrectly, but so far they seem identical."

"I don't think it's an error on your part. I thought they were identical when I looked at them too. That's going to make the bone sorting more fun. Any salvageable DNA will be identical as well. They've been dead approximately two years. Run the faces through the database going back three years to be safe."

"Okay." The two sat in silence as they watched images of missing females float across the screen. Brennan pointed to a pair of girls with dark hair and light eyes. Angela pulled up the file. "Pamela and Erin Parker. Missing for about two years. They lived in Virginia."

"Thank you Angela. Call Booth," she told her friend.

"Wait. Why can't you call him?"

"I want to get some preliminary work done and see if I can find the cause of death. If you don't mind, I'll be taking the skulls with me."

"Sure, sweetie. And I'll call Booth. You know how fast he'll get over here, so you'd better hurry up."

"I will," she responded as she picked up the skulls and left.

An hour later Brennan was heading to her office to grab her jacket before Booth arrived. Several feet away from the platform she ran straight into Booth.

"Hey," he said as he looked at her face. She had that deer-in-the-headlights look going on.

"Hi Booth. I was just about to call and see where you were," she lied. She was going to come up with something else to say, but the phone in her office began to ring. With one look at Booth, she hurried into the office and snatched up the phone.

Booth followed behind her, matching her long strides. He watched as she answered her phone with the familiar greeting and plopped into her chair. He knew this was going to be a long conversation. The agent listened as his partner explained with as few details as possible about her brother. He knew that the woman on the other end of the line would be confused and hurt. Earlier the day before he had phoned Russ' parole officer to report the manner in which he left. If he hadn't, he knew that he would be in a lot of trouble when the details came out. There had been some initial anger and questions as to why Booth had allowed a parolee to escape with one of the FBI's most wanted men. After a quick and slightly false explanation, the man on the other end of the line had thanked him and hung up abruptly. Booth turned his attention back to the woman on the phone. She didn't look so good. He had to wait for another few minutes before she hung up.

"That was Amy," she stated. "She wanted to know more about Russ. I just told her that there were some things I didn't really care to discuss concerning my family and that I haven't heard from Russ." Her eyes seemed sad. "We identified the victims in the bags," she informed him, changing the topic quickly. "They're identical twins. Their names were Pamela and Erin Parker, and they lived in Virginia."

"Yeah." He decided to let the topic change slide. "Angela told me that when she called. Why did she call?"

"I had some things I wanted to take care of. I wanted to examine their bones. I haven't determined cause of death yet. Zack is still working on that. He'll tell me if he finds anything."

"Perfect," Booth replied with a grin. "Get your jacket. We're going to Virginia. The Parkers need to know that their daughters are no longer alive." She stood slowly and grabbed her jacket, To Booth, she seemed almost unwilling to go, but he didn't say anything.

They passed the first twenty minutes of the ride in silence. Booth drummed his fingers on the wheel in the slow-moving traffic. Brennan started at the same spot for an entire minute before speaking.

"I should have stayed in the lab. It would have been more useful and logical. I'm not really needed in this part anyway. I just make people feel worse about death than they already do."

"Look, nobody enjoys this part of the job but it has to be done. You've gotten much, much batter at dealing with people. It'll be fine."

"I'd like to determine the cause of death." It was true that she wanted to know how the girls had died. She didn't enjoy facing grieving parents. It seemed that everyone reacted to death differently. Some screamed, some cried, others said nothing, some begged, and yet others wouldn't accept it at all. She briefly wondered how the Parkers would react.

Some time later Booth stopped the SUV in front of a house that was identical to its neighbors. The only differences that were obvious to the eye were the colors of the shutters and the numbers on the identical mailboxes. The pair silently left the SUV and headed up the walk of number 1792. Booth rang the doorbell and the two stood together, waiting. They didn't have to wait long until the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged man. A woman was standing not far behind him. Noting the questioning expressions on the couples' faces, Booth spoke.

"Mr. And Mrs. Parker?" They nodded in unison. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner Doctor Temperance Brennan." More questioning looks. "We're here about your Daughters Pamela and Erin." At the mention of their daughters, Mr. Parker looked at Mrs. Parker, who gasped.

"Please come in and sit down," the woman said after a minute. Two minutes later the four adults were sitting in the Parker family living room.

"Mr. And Mrs, Parker," Booth stated slowly, in a pacific tone, "I'm sorry to inform you that we've found your daughters."

"They're dead," Mrs. Parker stated, her eyes filling with tears. Booth nodded in the affirmative. A tear slid down Mrs. Parker's cheek.

"I knew that if they were gone so long they couldn't be alive. They would have phoned. They're good girls," Mr Parker said quietly.

"We're terribly sorry for your loss," Brennan said. "I was wondering if this means anything to you?" She pulled a small plastic bag out of her bag. The bag had the Jeffersonian logo on the top left corner and was otherwise clear. It contained a small catheter-like object about the size of an old fifty cent piece. The tubing was cut about five inches from the catheter. Mrs. Parker reached for the bag. After examining its contents for a moment she handed it back.

"That's Pamela's. She has...had diabetes for about seven years. This part here connected to her body, and on the other side of the tubing was the insulin pump. Didn't you find that?"

"No we didn't. We may have missed something though." Booth.

After learning a few details about the Parker girls' lives, Booth and Brennan departed the suburban home. Upon reaching the SUV, Brennan pulled out her phone and dialed Zack at the Jeffersonian.

"Zack? It's me. Yeah. Do you remember the pelvis that I pulled the catheter from? It belongs to Pamela. Apparently she was a diabetic and it went to her insulin pump. Analyze bone density. Pamela's bones should have a slightly lower density than Erin's due to the diabetes. Yes. Thank you Zack." She hung up the phone and stared at her lap. Booth drove on in silence. He was always amazed by her extensive knowledge of bones and how they are affected.

"So what are your plans after we get back to the lab?" Booth broke the silence.

"Analyzing bone densities, sorting out sisters."

"Fun stuff," he commented sarcastically.

"It's not fun, but it will be worth it in the end. The parents will have the knowledge they need and whoever did this to them will pay. It's definitely not fun."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that it was, you know, seriously fun."

"I know. So what's your next course of action?"

"I'm going to get a warrant as a formality and check those girls' rooms. See if I can determine if there was anybody they didn't get along with. Maybe talk to some friends."

"Check their computers if they have them. Check any saved messenger chats. They're becoming more and more popular." Booth smiled.

"Your investigative skills are coming along. I don't know anything about these girls. Maybe they met some bozo off the internet. Who knows?"

"Something about the insulin pump is bothering me," Brennan went on. "Where is it? Did the attacker take it? Should we be looking at other diabetics? Would the attacker sell it?"

"How much would they be able to get for a stolen insulin pump?"

"Probably a lot. They're pretty complex little devices, and somebody that didn't have health insurance and did have juvenile diabetes would probably pay a lot for one."

"Maybe we could track the serial number from Pamela's pump. If it was re-registered, maybe it could lead us somewhere. Will the serial number be on the medical records when they come in?"

"Probably not," she said. "Maybe you could contact the insurance agency once we have the name of the endocrinologist."

"Yeah. It would probably be easier than going through a teenager's chat log." The rest of the journey passed without serious conversation. Occasionally they would comment on their fellow motorists or the lone pedestrian. Soon enough they reached the gray parking garage of the Jeffersonian. Booth maneuvered the SUV into a recently vacated spot and shifted into park. Brennan left the car after thirty seconds of silence.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said as she slid out of the SUV. For a moment he considered going in after her. What use would he be? The other squints were there. He was feeling a little bit tired anyway. He was thankful that his investigating currently revolved around people who worked normal jobs with normal hours.

"Yeah" he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." He watched her retreating form enter the building and waited a few minutes before leaving the parking structure. While driving his mind shifted from the Parkers to Parker to his partner to his growling stomach to his quickly increasing fatigue. Figuring a trip to Wong Foo's would help his stomach, he took a left at the next light.

He entered the Wong Foo's parking lot and pulled into a spot in front. He quickly found his usual stool at the bar and sat down. Within a minute Sid came down to him.

"Hey G man," he said by way of greeting. "Picking up for yourself and the Bone Lady?"

"Not tonight, Sid. It's just me. Bones is working, as usual. I have no idea when she'll be done, or I'd g et something for her."

"I'll be right back G man." True to his word, Sid returned quickly with a steaming bowl and a glass of water. Booth's mouth watered.

After leaving Wong Foo's booth went directly home. Keeping up with Bones' schedule was hard. She must be exhausted as well. He let himself into his apartment. He looked at the couch where she had slept just nights before. She drove him wild, he'd admit that. She invaded his thoughts at many times during the day. What had been up with her that morning? She seemed slightly off. It was probably due to the phone conversation with Amy. No. She had seemed a bit off in the corridor where they met that morning. He decided to leave that for his conscious mind to tackle in the morning. He slipped off his pants and shirt before sliding between the sheets and falling asleep.

**A/N: Did that seem short to anybody? 3,000 words. I haven't forgotten about this story. I may have less frequent updates now because I** **started my second semester this week, and I had a lot of studying to do. Most of my time is going to AP French and Algebra work. Yuck. So I'd really appreciate reviews for this chapter. I would _really, really, really_** **appreciate reviews. They make me happy where French and Algebra do not. Thank you.**


	7. Joining You

AN: I'm going to be trying something new in regards to what characters I follow in this chapter. And please ignore my typos; I'm typing on a laptop and I suck at it.

Angela sat at her desk the next day with nothing to do. There were a few girls scheduled to come in that day to describe a man who had attempted to kidnap them. She was scheduled to meet with 6 girls who had all been able to describe the man. It was supposed that there were more girls out there who had come in contact with the same man, and two girls were currently missing. The government didn't want to take any chances, so they arranged for Angela to make the composite sketch. She drummed her fingers on her desk distractedly. She let her mind wander. She thought about the twins she had identified just yesterday. The parents knew their girls were dead, and Booth was chasing a serial number. Brennan had received the girls' medical files late last night. She and Zack had been working to reconstruct the bodies of the girls so they could determine the cause of death. She had tried twice the day before and once today to make Brennan tell her about Booth. Brennan continued to say that nothing was happening, yet she still continued to avoid contact with Booth, and she relapsed into using multi-syllabic technical jargon in his presence. Angela was slowly going nuts over this Brennan-Booth thing. She was forming her next line of questioning for her friend when a blonde girl no more than five years old walked slowly into her office followed closely by her worried-looking mother.

"Are you Angela Montenegro?" the other asked of the artist.

"Yes I am. Is this Jessica?" The little girl nodded. "Great. Why don't we go upstairs? It's a slightly better environment," she said, looking around at some of the artwork not quite suitable for five year old eyes. "Miss, if you could, please wait here. It will be easier for Jessica to talk to me if you're not around." The mother nodded reluctantly before dropping behind and watching her child leave with the artist she had just met.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Amy paced back and forth in her kitchen as she did every morning. It was still an hour until her girls would wake up. This had somehow become her morning routine before she realized that it had become her routine. She was always up at least an hour before the girls. This was her designated time to worry. What the hell was she expected to do since Russ had disappeared? He had promised to pay for Hailey's medical bills. She should have known it was too good to be true. They had just started making plans for a new life together when he disappeared. Desperate, she rooted through Russ' things until she found a short list of phone numbers, most belonging to his friends and ex coworkers. One was listed as "Tempe." No way could it be referring to Arizona. It seemed familiar. Why had he gone to DC? To meet his sister. What was her name? Temperance. Was Tempe her nickname? He said she was a world-renown forensic anthropologist and author. He sounded so proud when he spoke of her. Digging further through his things, she had produced a copy of her novel. Now convinced that "Tempe" was his sister, she gathered up the courage and called her. Obediently, she agreed to call back the next morning because Temperance was busy and seemed distracted. The answers she got didn't really help when they came.

Temperance Brennan seemed like a good woman. She, too, had been hurt by the disappearance of Russ. She had not only faced his disappearance once, but twice. She had admitted to the woman that she didn't know some of the details of her family's history- what to believe or who to trust. Russ had been the last member of the family she had trusted, and he had disappeared. Things didn't sound too good in the Brennan family. Maybe the girls were better off without Russ. Amy hoped so, because if things weren't better without Russ, she didn't know how she would react. Her life had already grown more difficult since Russ' disappearance. Her girls were smart, and they'd asked all the questions she had prayed they wouldn't.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Placing the phone back on its cradle, Brennan leaned back into the leather of her office chair. What had Russ done now? Did her seriously think that life on the run would be better than a life with Amy? She seemed nice enough. Was it the financial responsibility? Perhaps. Maybe it was the fact that he would have to be responsible, which he most definitely was not.

She swiveled in her chair to face the dark screen of her computer. While she waited for it to power up she let her mind drift. The first thing that came to mind was Booth. What was it about him? He drove her nuts. She was more than physically attracted to him. He was a truly nice person, but she didn't want to risk getting hurt another time. The rational part of her brain told her that he wouldn't do that. He couldn't. He's Booth. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to, not without Parker. Rebecca would never let him have Parker forever, and he wasn't stupid enough to kidnap him.

The part of her brain that acted like a scared little girl decided to join the conversation. Responsibility? Did it really matter? No. At the deepest part of each person lies a selfish beast. Sometimes the beast takes over an otherwise normal person and makes them act out of character. Booth was just as susceptible to the beast as anyone else; he was capable of hurting her. But was it worth it to create distance for something that may or may not happen in the future?

Rationality kicked in again. Booth made her happy. Nothing seemed to make her happy these days. Didn't she owe it to herself to be happy? Yes, yes she did. She had resolved to not ignore Booth when Zack came in for her. Something about bones, as usual.

She had just put on a fresh pair of gloves as Booth hurried up the steps to the platform.

"Yo, Bones," he called. "Got something to discuss with you. Come on," he indicated that they should take a walk.

"What," she said impatiently. "I was just about to-"

"I know," he interrupted. "Something gross. I traced the serial number on the pump. It's in Washington right now with a Mister Keith Nichols."

"Well, at least it's close."

"Bones, I meant Washington State. I'm having agents check him and his insulin pump out right now. Do you know how out girls died?"

"Well, right now it appears that one of the skulls has evidence of blunt force trauma to the back, and the other needs to be reconstructed."

"And that will be done…."  
"It will be done as soon as I'm done with it. Now, can I please get on with it?"

"Yes. Go do your skull thing. I just thought you might like to know about the pump lead."  
"I do want to know about it. Thank you." She turned and retreated back to the platform, to a table holding several fragments of skull and bottles of Elmer's glue.

It took her mere minutes to glue the skull together again because it was in several large chunks. Zack walked over to her just as she was sure the glue was dry. In his hands he held two large envelopes.

"Pamela and Erin's medical records. Maybe now we can sort the bodies definitely," he said by way of greeting.

The sorting would normally take several hours, but Brennan and Zack worked together, quickly and silently. Though they worked quickly, they were careful not to ignore any detail. The process was also made easier by the fact that the girls had both suffered many bone injuries as children. Compared to other cases Brennan had worked in her career, this one was simple. That, combined with Zack's efforts and Brennan's determination had made the process go considerably faster. Several hours later the two anthropologists were searching the completed skeletons for any indicators that would lead them to the cause of death. One anthropologist per skeleton made the work faster.

"The apparent cause of death on Pamela is blunt force trauma. I see no other recent injuries that would be indicative of a struggle. She was struck from behind. She never saw the attack coming," Zack concluded.

"Yes. Erin's death seems to be caused by blunt force trauma as well. She also has multiple fractures to the ulnae and to the ribs. Erin saw the attacker. I'll call Booth," Brennan concluded.

"There's no need to call Booth," Zack said. Brennan looked around the platform and her eyes caught Booth swiping his Jeffersonian ID to enter the platform.

"What are we calling Booth for?" the agent asked, a smile plastered to his features.

"We've identified the causes of death," Dr. Brennan said matter-of-factly. "Both were killed by blows to the back of the head. Pamela never saw it coming, but Erin did."

"That's great, " Booth said. "But all of that comes to nothing until I find a suspect. I have the guys over at the FBI lab searching through the girls' computer. Checking emails, chat logs, every text that's saved on the thing. Maybe we'll get somewhere. I hope so." As if on cue, Booth's cell began shrilling. Brennan listened to a series of short noises came from Booth. When the call concluded, she looked at him expectantly.

"Well?" She questioned.

"What makes you assume that every call I receive is your business?"

"Well, I just figured that since you didn't lapse into a conversational tone, that it was business related. Seeing as your business often crosses paths with my business, I made the assumption that it was something you'd share with me eventually. Was I incorrect?"

"No. My boys found a chat log that indicated that at least one of the Parker girls went to meet up with a group of friends. It took some persuading to get her out, but she went. Right now it's just a list of screen names, but the lab guys are working to get real names from the messenger service. It shouldn't take too long. It looks like we're finally getting somewhere." He glanced down at his watch. "In the mean time, it's lunch time. What do you say we hit the diner? My treat."

"I don't know, Booth."

"Come on, what else are you going to do? You've already identified the cause of death for both girls."

"Reexamine them. Make sure I haven't missed anything. Zack and I ran a quick scan for anything huge that stood out. Fractures, breaks, cuts, we were looking for anything. But I haven't really had a close look."

"Later. Come to lunch now."

"Later. I don't know what's going to happen later. You could get a call with the identities of the online chatters. Then what? We'd be going after them. I need to do this now, while I have the time."

"When are you going to eat?"

"When it's convenient. I'd just feel better if I could examine them more thoroughly."

"I'll take you back here after lunch, regardless of who does or does not call me."

"Fine. All of this back and forth is wasting time anyway. Your treat." The two left the lab side by side, walking at a comfortable pace. Within minutes they were at the diner. It was close to the lab. It was a comfortable spot. It was the site of their first glimpse into the world of life beyond mere partnership.

They seated themselves across from each other at a small table. Before either of them had said a word, a girl by the name of Dana came to the table and took their orders. After she left, the pair sighed in unison.

"So," they both started.

"So," Brennan repeated.

"Go ahead," Booth coaxed.

"Booth, I want to know what's going on with us."

"Now you bring it up," he joked.

"Yeah. Where do we stand? Friends, more that friends, or are we somewhere in between? I mean, the other night," she trailed off. "I know you feel that sex is usually about more than the sex, so…" again she trailed off.

"How do you feel about it?"

"How do I feel? Honestly, I have feelings for you, Booth." For the first time, she admitted her feelings about him. Neither of them spoke for ten seconds, twenty seconds. To Brennan the time seemed to stretch for eternity.

"Yeah. I have feelings for you too. I have for a long time."

"Wow. It's been so long since I've actually had feelings for someone. I've been with men, but I've never truly felt anything."

"Then why have you been avoiding me like a disease?"

"I don't know." At that moment Dana reappeared with their orders. As booth was finishing his pie, his phone began its familiar tune from his pocket. He shifted and extracted the small device. Brennan watched him answer with short words and conclude with a request to have the information sent to his phone. He paid the bill and indicated that they should leave.

"My boys found the real identities to the messenger names. Names and information is being sent to my phone. Time to get you back to the lab."

"I told you this was going to happen. Now I really don't want to go back to the lab, but I have a responsibility to work further."

"You can relax, Bones. By the time I work things out, it will probably be too late to go knocking on people's doors. So I'll take you back to your lab so I can stay true to my word. I'll go through every detail of these people. We'll go out tomorrow to see some of these creeps."

"Fine. As long as we catch this person, this thing, that thinks it's alright to kill and that they'll get away with it."

"I know, Bones. I know." The vehicle rolled to a stop outside the Jeffersonian and Brennan got out. She wished Booth a good evening before entering the building. As she worked silently through the twin skeletons, Brennan found herself missing Booth standing behind her. She actually missed his incessant questioning and lame jokes. She found herself vaguely wondering what would unfold between herself and the FBI agent. She wondered what would happen the next day as they questioned the list of online friends.

**A/N: Again, short. But you see, I needed to post something. I'm feeling guilty. For future reference, I'm ignoring all new episodes in this story. So as it stands, this is still right after Judas on a Pole. I appreciate any and all reviews. Oh, and more of everything (investigation, B&B stuff) in the next chapter. Really. I promise it will be longer and better. Still, review please. **


	8. Doth I Protest Too Much

It was 7:30 when Booth made his way into the Jeffersonian Institute. He had a hunch that his partner would be there. He brought two large coffees and a bag of bagels. On the platform he recognized the hunched form of Bones. He slid his pass key into the slot before climbing the stairs to the platform. He took a moment to take in the image before him: Bones bent over a table of disorganized bones, so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice him entering the lab and entering the platform. Bones. The same woman that had admitted her feelings for him just the day before. The same woman he kissed in the Diner. The same woman she had always been, but had suddenly become more.

Booth took several more steps toward Brennan. He extended his bag of bagels to inches in front of her face, shook it, and sighed heavily.

"Bones," he half-stated, half-moaned. The woman looked up at him slowly before answering.

"Hi. Good morning. Why are you here so early?" She bent back over the table of bones, awaiting his reply.

"It's 7:45; that's not early. When did you get here?" he countered.

"Somewhere between 5:30 and 6. Why?"

"Why so early?"

"I knew that you were going to come in here this morning and take me to Virginia. I knew that you would not let me take any time to recheck for any remaining particulates on the bones, so I came in early to do my work before you came in." She said all of this while nose-to-nasal-cavity with one of the Parker girls. "I'm almost done. I estimated you'd be in at 8, so I still need a few minutes. Admittedly, there isn't much left, I want to be thorough." She used small forceps to pull something out of a rib, and placed it into a tiny dish.

"So, how long will we be? I'd really like to get going."

"I'd say just a few minutes. Let me get my jacket. I'll let Zack run a final examination before cleaning the bones."

"Great, " Booth replied with a smile. "I have the names and addresses in my car along with copies of the chat log, and a few maps."

"Sound like I'm not the only busy one."

"You think I actually took the time to do all of that? No. Though perhaps I should have taken the credit." He gave her his charm smile, and she gave him a heavy eye roll.

She knew that Zack knew what he was doing. He had his doctorate, and he had always known what he was doing. He had been a fine grad student, and was now making an excellent doctor. She also knew that Hodgins knew his duties. She knew that her entire team was capable of functioning without her. Despite all of that, she scribbled some quick instructions before her departure with Booth.

Several minutes into the drive, Brennan inquired about the group they were to meet that day. Reaching behind his seat, Booth retrieved a file-folder divided by tabs, each labeled with the name of someone they were to question that day. She smiled to herself.

"Who is doing your organization?"

"What? Oh, that. There's a new guy down in information, and he likes everything to be organized and easy to find. Seven people, seven tabs, each divided into their own folder. And it's alphabetically organized. He's good. Weird, but good."

Brennan spent the next twenty minutes reading through the files and looking at the faces of people who could be responsible for two deaths. She had finished scanning the files, and she had finished her bagel when she looked at Booth.

"Whom are we seeing first?" she asked him simply.

"We're seeing the Parker parents again. They know we're coming. We're going to ask

them about these people, and see if they know anything." Bones was reading the area map. It had several indicators of where the seven internet chatters lived and where the Parkers lived.

"This is odd," she commented. "See how this dot is so far away from the others? Did they go to the same school?"

"Todd Mathews did not attend the same high school as the Parker sisters. The girls attended Fitzgerald High and he attended Mabry High before dropping out in his sophomore year." She looked at him for a moment, wondering how he knew so much. "What? The drive-thru line at the bagel place was long. I read the file." Sensing she was about to protest that she, too, had read the file, he added, "Completely."

"Care to summarize the rest of it for me then?"

"No. I only read that one after looking at the map. I had the same thought that you did." Brennan turned back to the file folder.

"Tara Bramson. Same grade and school as the Parkers. Stephanie Davis. Same grade and school as the Parkers. Nathan Greiff. Same age and grade and school as the Parker sisters. Charged with possession of illegal substances in high school. Evan Jackson. Same school, one grade above the Parkers. Aubrey Nelson. Same school and grade. Amy Patterson. Same grade and school. There's really not much in these files except for names, addresses, and graduation dates."

"What do you expect for files of recent high school graduates? Listen, we'll just talk to the Parkers, get their impressions of these kids. Move from there." As he said this, he maneuvered the SUV to the curb and put it in park. "Let's go."

Thirty minutes later the pair was departing form the Parker residence. Brennan turned to give Mrs. Parker one last reassurance.

"Dr. Brennan," the elder woman said. "I can tell you understand. I know you're good at what you do. Please, just help us find whoever it was that did this to my daughters." The woman's voice was strained and full of desperation. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. Brennan gave a slight nod.

"I will." She made her way back to the SUV in silence, her head swimming with thoughts. She had been gentle and assuring to a mother who needed to know that her daughters' killer would be brought to justice. She hadn't presented Mrs. Parker with a realistic image of a murder investigation; she hadn't allowed gruesome details to flow from her mouth. With two simple words she had reached a new point in her social development.

--

When interviewing the Parker girls' friends, they chose to go alphabetically, as opposed to geographically. Tara Bramson had been unavailable. She had been accepted to study for a year at a university in Barcelona. Unless evidence came to light that pointed to Tara, they weren't going to interview her.

Stephanie Davis and Amy Patterson were both at the home of the former. Neither had opted to go to college, and both seemed surprised at the recent discovery of the Parker girls. Amy had cried as they remembered their friends.

"I knew that something bad had to have happened for them to simply vanish," Stephanie stated, still in awe. "The last time I saw them was at Nate's party."

"That's Nathan Greiff," Booth had stated for confirmation. He knew about the party from the preliminary missing person's files. There had also been a lot of under-aged drinking. The last time anyone remembered seeing the girls was around 2 AM. After that, it was anyone's guess.

Booth and Brennan didn't learn much from Amy and Stephanie. As they had left, the girls had been apologetic about not knowing anything useful.

Nathan Greiff was another who had chosen to stay in the Virginia suburban community. Since the investigators had chosen a Saturday to poke around the community, they found Nathan mowing grass in front of a small, one-story on a corner lot. As they walked toward Nathan, Booth placed his hand on Brennan's shoulder. Sensing their presence, Nathan stopped the lawn mower and moved toward the pair. Booth pulled his FBI badge from his belt and held it up.

"Nathan Greiff?" he asked. Nathan nodded. "I'm special agent Seeley Booth with the FBI, and this is my partner, Dr. Brennan. We'd like to ask you a few questions." The boy nodded his head. He pulled a rag out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Sure. What is this about?" Nathan asked. After verifying that Nathan knew the Parker sisters, Booth probed further.

"We were told that you threw the party where the Parker sisters were last seen." Nate said nothing. "Do you know what may have happened to them? Was anyone threatening them, treating them badly?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened to them. The last time I saw them, Pam was hanging around the back yard and Erin was in the yard too, but she was closer to the house." If you think you might find something else, you can look around."

"If you don't mind, maybe we could just look around the back yard a little bit," Brennan interjected.

"No, not at all," he said. He led them around the freshly mowed side of the house into the back yard.

The grass in the back was tall and lush. A well-manicured yard gave way to a dense line of trees. A row of tomato plants lined the house, several green orbs hanging from dark green vines. A neat line of trees separated the Greiff house from its neighbors. Brennan looked into the shade provided by the dense group of trees sixty yards from the back of the house, then looked to their guide. He launched into an explanation of how the yard had been the night of the party.

"During the party there were tables lined up over there," he pointed to the edge of the house flanked by tomato plants. "There were drinks and stuff. We lit torches all around so we could see," he swept his hand in a wide arc around the yard. "We pulled out the fire pit and speared a bunch of stuff to eat. That's about it." Brennan had listened to his every word.

"Did anyone go down into the trees" she asked him.

"No, I don't think so."

"I'm going to look down there just in case." She set off down the grassy slope with Booth right behind her. The two made their way into the tangle of trees and foliage. There was less light under the vegetation than one would have expected. Walking slowly, Brennan observed the ground, looking for any change in the floor that might indicate if anything strange had taken place. Several times Brennan stopped to clear the fallen leaves from the ground, hoping to find _something_. Booth watched her in silence as she probed the ground and watched around. He didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for, so he pretended to be looking for the same thins she was. They turned to return to the main yard, and Brennan tripped over something covered in brown leaves.

"Bones! You okay?" Booth called. She looked up from her position on the ground.

"Fine." She brushed the leaves away from the offending object. It looked like part of a door knob protruding from the ground. Using her fingers, she scraped dirt around the object. After several minutes she held a wooden baseball bat covered in dark earth. She looked up at Booth, still standing where he had been watching her dig up the object. Eyes met eyes, and he knew what she was thinking.

Holding the wooden bat in her hands, Brennan made her way back up to the grass where Nate stood waiting. Booth made his way in front of Brennan.

"So, Nate, are you a baseball player?" The boy turned away from the bed of tomatoes he was de-weeding.

"No, sir. Why do you ask?" Again with the sweat removal.

"We found this," Brennan indicated the bat. "Do you mind if we take this with us?" He shook his head no.

"Be my guest."

--

Night had fallen when the pair made their way into the sterile environment of the Jeffersonian lab. The cool air on their faces felt good as they entered the lab. The combined humidity and heat of the summer was killer this time of year. Hair styles fell flat, deodorant was ineffective, and outdoor living was by necessity only.

Tired not only from the heat, but from rising before five, Brennan quickly secured their possible piece of evidence before returning to her office to gather her things. She crossed the threshold of her office and let out a sigh she had been holding. Then she noticed the shape on her couch and her breath caught in her throat. When she realized that it was Booth she let out the rest of the sigh.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

"Is that all you ever say to me?" Booth teased lightly.

"What? I, uh, sorry," she blushed. I was just wondering _why_ you are still here. You could have left by now. I didn't expect to see you in here." Words kept tumbling from her mouth.

"Well, I thought since is was getting late, we could, you know. Get food." Booth looked at her hopefully.

"Thanks, but really I'm not"

"Not hungry, I know." Booth cut her off. "But can we just avoid the lengthy word dance and eat?" She stared at him.

"Word dance?" she questioned aloud.

"You know. I ask you about dinner, you tell me you're not hungry, I get you to eat somehow. Let's not dance; let's get something to eat. You get up early. You get up really early. You get up _way_ earlier than I would. The sooner you agree and eat with me, the sooner you can get to sleep." He flashed her a smile. "Come on," the smile reflected in his eyes, "Thai food?"

"Thai food," she agreed, and flashed him a smile.

Twenty minutes later they found themselves sitting in a booth in a nearly empty Thai restaurant. They had both received heaping plates of steaming food. The food was not authentic Thai, but neither seemed to mind. For once Brennan didn't speak of the blatant mockery of foreign cultures, and Booth didn't have to half-heartedly stop her. The conversation stayed light. Booth watched her eat noodles without looking like a goon. Brennan watched him eat his noodles and make a fool of himself. After Booth's food was gone, and the remainder of Brennan's was neatly packaged in a box bearing the restaurant's logo, they set off to the lone SUV in the parking lot.

"You can drop me at the Jeffersonian," she said as she fastened her seat belt. He shot her a look.

"Why? I can take you home."

"I need to get my car. I get up at an ungodly hour. Much earlier than you would ever get your butt out of bed. Plus, Angela was getting on to me about you bringing me in. She seemed to think it meant we were sleeping together," she chuckled. He couldn't seem to think of anything that would sound appropriate at that moment, so he headed toward the Jeffersonian.

"Hi ho, hi ho, to the Jeffersonian we go," he mumbled under his breath.

As he pulled into the Jeffersonian parking garage, she was digging her keys out of a pocket in her bag. He maneuvered the SUV into a spot near her car and put it in park. She looked at him and said a simple good night. Then he put his hand under her chin and pulled her face closer to his and planted a kiss on her lips. She smiled against his mouth, and deepened the kiss. Moments later, she pulled away gently.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said as she climbed out of the SUV. _See you tomorrow_, he thought to himself. Not goodbye, or goodnight, but see you tomorrow. He knew she wasn't running; she was going to see him tomorrow.

--

A/N: insert excuse for terrible delay here 

**In other news, please review and tell me what you thought of the chapter, plus what you'd like to see in the coming chapters. I take requests, you know. ;) The next chapter won't take as long, I promise. **


	9. Flinch

**AN: I'm terrible, I know. But let's get past my problems and get on with this story. Zack is still around. This story is still stuck in the midst of season 2. Deal with it.**

The next morning Brennan was greeted by an energetic Hodgins. Not normally one to work on Sundays, he had come in at the request of Brennan. He gestured her to his work station before typing quickly and calling up various graphs.

"The unidentified fragments you pulled from the bones is Carya Glabra, more commonly referred to as Hickory wood. It's a fairly common wood that is used for a lot of things like tool handles, drum sticks,"

"Baseball bats?" she interrupted.

"It used to be common to make baseball bats from Hickory, but more recently most bats are made from Ash. Interestingly enough, the bat you found in the woods is made from Hickory."

"Is it a match?"

"It's a match," he said with a satisfied smirk.

"I'll call Booth." With that, she headed to her office. Standing at the entry-way to the room was Booth.

"What are you doing here? Don't you ever go to your own office?" she demanded from him.

"Whoa Bones. I talked to our friend Nate a little bit more. It turns out that there were more people at his party than we knew about. We've got more people to interview."

"On a Sunday?" As far as she could remember, they rarely interviewed on Sundays.

"Yes. This is a special circumstance. You remember the insulin pump?" She nodded. "Well, it was sold online by a man named Ross Cameron. According to Nate, one of the kids at his party was named Cameron Ross. It's too much of a coincidence to ignore just because it's Sunday."

"Because it _might_ be his name backwards?"

"Also because I ran a check on Cameron Ross. He was 23 at the time of the party. What was he doing with a bunch of highschoolers? It doesn't sit right with me."

An hour later the pair was getting out of the SUV in a rundown section of Virginia. The apartment complex that their suspect was supposed to be living in was a small, depressed-looking building. It had obviously been standing for decades, and it had clearly seen better times. Making their way to the door, each noticed that the paint around the door frame was peeling and that a first-floor window was hanging by one hinge. Booth pressed a thumb into the buzzer to gain admittance to the building. Stepping inside the dimly lit vestibule, Booth was met by the overwhelming smell of urine and an old woman.

"Can I help you?" the woman scowled. Her eyes seemed too large behind the woman's large glasses.

"Yes, m'am. I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth." He pulled his badge from his hip. "I'm with the FBI. I'm looking for Ross Cameron. Do you know where he is?"

"Cammy? What is it you think he's done? He's a good boy, you know."

"We just need to ask him a few questions. That's all. Can you tell me where he is?"

"He's down the hall in apartment C." With that, the woman turned and retreated back into her apartment.

Brennan and Booth looked at one another before advancing down the hall. Booth stepped before the door, inhaled deeply, and knocked. At first there was no indication that anyone was even inside the apartment. Then the pair heard a faint rustling on the other side of the door. Booth knocked once more on the door, and it sounded as if something had been knocked over. Booth gave warning before knocking in the old door with one kick. The pair was just in time to see a man jump out of a window in the rear of the apartment. Booth let out a series of curses as he bounded through the apartment and out of the window, hand on his weapon. He had underestimated the distance to the ground and stumbled a bit to get onto his feet.

Brennan was only moments behind him, and landed neatly on her feet beside the newly-righted agent. Before Booth could call out to her, she ran past him after the man and up a steep hill. Running quickly into a wooded park, Brennan was caught off guard when Cameron grabbed her arm, throwing her to the ground. She felt a distinctive pop as he ran away. Less than a second later, Booth stood over her.

"Booth, go get him. He ran that way," she pointed. He hesitated for a second before running after the suspect.

After she could no longer hear the pounding of Booth's feet against the earth, Brennan rolled over on her side, and then pushed herself into a sitting position. Gingerly, she pulled the hem of her denim pants up and untied her tennis shoe. Next, she pulled up the hem of the other leg and compared her two ankles. Her right ankle was noticeably swollen, even without a comparison. She sucked in a deep breath as she began feeling the enlarged ankle. She sat still for a moment, working through her options. She could sit an wait for Booth to get back with the suspect. She could try to make her way back to the SUV and wait for him there, as to not get in the way. That was probably for the best.

She shifted herself around and began to quasi-spider walk to the vehicle. She made it about ten feet before stopping. The movement hurt too much on her ankle. From her position he could see the back of the apartment building, which was now surrounded by agents. She shouted out to them to her their attention. One agent made his way up the hill toward her. Without hesitation, she launched into conversation.

"My partner and I came to interview a suspect who fled. They've both gone in that direction." She pointed away from herself. "The suspect tripped me, and I believe my ankle is broken." The officer stood over her for another minute before looking back at the remaining officers and then off in the direction Brennan had pointed. She followed the man's gaze to find her partner leading a man out of the woods in handcuffs. He made his way quickly to Brennan's side, the suspect directly in front of him.

"Good afternoon, officer," he said as a way of greeting. "Would you mind escorting this man down to my SUV so that I can help my partner?" The man kindly obliged, and Booth stooped to pick up his partner. To his surprise, she did not protest to him carrying her down the hill and around the apartment complex.

Upon reaching the vehicle, Booth placed Brennan in the passenger seat, and pulled out his phone. He called in a favor to another agent to have Cameron taken into custody.

"Booth," she addressed him. "You didn't have to do that.""Yeah, Bones, I did. You need to go to the hospital."

"I'm a big girl. I can go to the hospital alone."

"Out here in Virginia?"

"Well, I figured you could just drop me by in DC. It hurts like hell, but I'm sure I can make it."

"Your ankle is the size of a football. We're going in to the hospital as soon as Agent Carson arrives." As he finished speaking, a short, athletic man got out of a standard black SUV and greeted Booth. The men exchanged words before Carson left with the suspect strapped into the back of his vehicle.

"Are we ready to go yet Booth?" she asked from the passenger seat. In response, he started the engine and pulled away from the aging apartment home. Upon reaching the hospital and parking, Brennan turned to him.

"You didn't have to bring me here, Booth. You could have sent one of those police officers, or called and ambulance, or better yet, taken me back to DC."

"No I couldn't, Bones. You need to get that looked at. And besides, what kind of partner," he paused, "what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't even take you to the hospital?" She bowed her head in understanding.

"Thank you, Booth. Really."

AN: Lame ending, but at least it's something. I'm going to try to update. But I no longer feel comfortable issuing guarantees. So just be patient, and please review.

Edited to add: I hope those of you who saw that last version, forgive me. I have no idea why everything was underlined and my paragraphs were one large lump.


	10. I Was Hoping

Monday morning the duo made their way into the lab, bickering the whole way. It was past 8:30: later than Brennan's usual arrival time. Ordinarily her late entrance would be enough to spark some curious stares. With the addition of crutches, every pair of eyes in the lab was on her.

"I don't see why you couldn't get yourself out of bed earlier, Booth." Brennan huffed as she crutched her way through the lab.

"Because," he exclaimed, "I don't think I should have to get up early just to chauffer you around! Maybe you'll work some normal hours now."

"My hours are fine. I don't see how my work schedule affects you under normal circumstances." Noticing their ever-escalating volume, Booth lowered his voice dramatically before speaking to her.

"Normally, you're right. It doesn't affect me. But since you can't drive yourself around in that cast, you either have to follow my schedule, or find another ride." He smirked as he held open the door to her office. Once both were inside, he closed the door half way.

"Last week you were very accommodating, if my memory serves me correctly," she stated. He huffed. At that moment, Angela came through the partially-opened doorway.

"What the hell happened to you, Bren?" she demanded upon entry. After ten seconds of silence she turned her tirade on Booth. "How did you let that happen to her?" she pointed sharply at Brennan's bandaged foot.

"It's not that bad, really, Angela. It's just a broken bone. A few surgical pins and a cast will have it healed up soon enough." Angela let out a small gasp.

"How, sweetie? What happened?"

"She went chasing after a suspect and he tripped her," Booth answered. "Just being her reckless self," he added.

"I'm not reckless, Booth," she protested.

"Sometimes you are," he argued. Angela smirked.

"Aren't you two just so cute together," she commented.

"Angela," Brennan said in a warning tone. Taking the hint, her friend made her way back into the lab. Once the door was closed, Booth spoke.

"You know she's going to find out eventually, right?"

"What," she said, confusion obvious in her face. "Oh. Right. Sorry. It's just reflex. I know she'll find out soon." She looked at the ground.

"Well, I need to get to my office. I'll call you with updates," he promised. Not sure how she'd feel about physical contact at work, she gave her a quick hug before exiting.

- - -

Several hours later, Booth sat with his feet propped on his desk. He felt a calm sense of satisfaction knowing that things were going his way, both with Brennan and the case. He snatched his office phone from its cradle and dialed her familiar number. After several rings he was ready to give up; normally she answered on the first ring or two.

"Brennan," she answered shortly. She sounded short of breath.

"Bones. It's me. Why do you sound winded?" he wondered aloud.

"Booth, I'm not winded. I was out in the lab and heard my phone ringing. It's harder to get around quickly on crutches, you know. Why did you call? Did something happen?"

"Yeah. Things are happening. Cameron's being questioned. He's still in Virginia. He admitted to finding the twins dead and to selling the insulin pump. Guy claims that he just needed the money, and he didn't kill the sisters. He just found them dead. He didn't want to call anyone about it because he thought he'd be a suspect. My guys are still working on him. We'll get him to confess." Booth sounded confident in his conclusions.

"I hope you're right," Brennan commented on the other end of the line.

"I know I'm right," he smirked into the phone. "Guy thinks he's a lot smarter than he is. It's a shame for him. He thinks he's going to out-wit the FBI." He could feel her smiling on the other end of the phone line.

"When do we have to tell the Parkers that we have him?"

"Only when charges have officially been given. That will probably be today. So we can probably visit the Parkers this week. Are you sure you're up to going?"

"Booth," she said with a warning tone.

"Right. I'll let you know."

"Listen, Booth. Angela has been bugging me today. Not just because of my foot, but because of all the time I've been spending with you. It's a little much."

"So tell her about, you know, us," he said as if it were the simplest solution.

"When are you picking me up tonight?" He wondered at her sudden change of topic.

"I was thinking around 5. Why?"

"Just," she hesitated, "nothing. I'll tell you later."

"Okay," he said slowly, almost tentatively.

"Right. Booth, I've got to go. I'll see you at 5." Giving their goodbyes, the pair both placed their phones back into their respective cradles.

- - -

At 5 PM on the nose, Booth strolled through the Jeffersonian, absently tossing a poker chip and wondering why Bones had been so evasive on the phone earlier. He scanned his card through the reader and let himself onto the forensics platform. He glanced around and did not see his partner or her crutches anywhere. Turning around, he quickly made his way to her familiar office.

He stepped into her office and noticed her sitting on the couch, a file open in her lap. Her metal crutches were leaning lazily against the side of the low couch. He let his eyes take in the full sight of her: the way her hair flowed smoothly past her shoulders, the way she bent her neck and cocked her head slightly while reading, and how she seemed to relax though her file probably contained very gruesome details. After a moment she turned to face him.

"Hi," she greeted him simply.

"Hey there, Bones." He walked over to the couch and sat next to her. She smiled at him. It was a small smile, but it was enough to warm his heart. Looking to the exit of her office, she ducked in to give him a small, quick kiss.

"So I had an idea," she started slowly.

"What was this idea," he questioned, amusement playing across his features.

"It was about breaking the news to Angela. Booth, I don't want to do it alone," she expressed honestly.

"That doesn't explain this idea of yours, Bones," he retorted. She stood quickly on one foot. Reflexively, he stood with her.

"I know." She turned again to glance at the door to her office. Seeing Angela striding to her door purposely, she looked to Booth. "Just follow my lead," she said quietly before embracing him passionately.

His senses were on fire. The suddenness of her advance took him by surprise. Her lips felt wonderful against his own. He felt her hands roaming over his body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He was aware of his own hands, one behind her head and the other at her waist. He felt the softness of her skin beneath his rough and calloused hands. He welcomed the gentle meeting of their tongues. They broke apart slowly. Lost in her eyes, he was unaware of his surroundings until he heard what sounded like papers being dropped on the floor.

"Oh. My. GOD!" Angela exclaimed. "Brennan! Booth!" She smirked mischievously. "I knew it would happen. I knew it! You two have finally caught up with yourselves." Her eyes went to Brennan. "Sweetie. We have GOT to talk." Rolling her eyes, Brennan nodded.

"I know, I know," she resigned. "But not now. Not tonight. I'm making Booth some dinner tonight."

"Oh?" Booth said, a hint of surprise evident.

"I meant to tell you earlier. I want to make you some Mac and Cheese. As a thank you for being so wonderful." She sent a sweet smile in his direction.

"Okay."

"You just have to take me to the market first. I don't have much at home right now."

"I knew there was a catch."

"It's not a catch. I mean, you're driving me around because of my foot. I need to go to the market anyway. I thought I'd give you and incentive."

"Bones, I don't need any incentive to spend time with you." Angela watched the scene unfolding before her with a smile transforming her features.

"Okay," Angela spoke. "You two go shopping. Have a nice evening. But Brennan, sweetie, you had better be prepared to talk to me tomorrow." Her tone was kind, but Brennan knew there was no escaping the inevitable conversation with her best friend.

"I know," she confirmed. "Tomorrow, Angela. Really." Turning her head to her boyfriend, she spoke again. "Would you mind grabbing my bag? It's behind my desk. We'd better get going if we're going to eat dinner some time tonight." He flashed her a smile as he bent to pick up her bag. Brennan gathered her crutches, and the pair left the lab side by side.

- - -

After dinner, Booth and Brennan sat back after a nice dinner. It was past 8 o'clock when they made their way to the kitchen, Booth carrying dishes, Brennan's crutches clicking softly. After all of the dinner mess was cleared away, the couple lounged on the couch, Brennan's plaster-encased foot on Booth's lap. He stroked her good leg absently.

"This is good," he voiced.

"This is good," she agreed.

"We should do this more often. I enjoyed it," he said.

"What did you enjoy? The Mac and cheese, my company, kissing me in my office, my broken bones?"

"Spending time with you of course. Although the Mac and Cheese was definitely a bonus." He smirked.

"You can take the leftovers with you," she offered.

"Really, Bones?" he could not hide the excitement in his voice.

"Of course. What would I do with all that pasta?"

"Uh, eat it?"

"Of course," she smiled. He leaned down and kissed her lightly.

"Well, I'd better get home," he said, gently displacing her foot and standing. "I'll let myself out," he said as she stood, unbalanced, on her left foot. As he passed her, he bent slightly and pressed his lips to hers. Before she knew it, he was gone, their kiss still tingling on her lips.

- - -

AN: Megra, I wasn't calling Cam an anthropologist. I see how it could be unclear, but I know she's a pathologist. Booth's choice of the word "anthropologist" was just to underscore how he values what Brennan says. More clear?

Please, please review. It would make the day of a lonely college student.

Also, I may be changing the chapter titles so that they are all by the same artist, because most of them are already (Alanis Morissette). I'm not changing any of the content, though!


End file.
